Page 145 of Ivory Ashes

I hate that Anatoly thinks he knows Viviana better than I do.

I hate even more that he might be right.

It’s easy for him to get close to her and Dante. He doesn’t have as much to lose if something happens to them. He won’t spend the rest of his life feeling like he failed them. Not like I will, at least.

“We don’t have time,” I spit. “The Greeks are on our asses. There was another attack last night only hours after we took out Yanis. If they attack here, I need her to be ready.”

“Viviana is always ready to fight,” Anatoly says with a sad smirk. “But she… she had a panic attack.”

I frown. “When?”

“After you left her room yesterday morning. She was…” He drags a hand over his face. “It was fucked, man. I’ve never seen her like that.”

My immediate thought: It should have been me. I should have been the one to find her, to comfort her. Not Anatoly. Me.

“I don’t care if she’s mad about the safety measures. They’re for her own good.”

“She wasn’t mad,” he corrects. “She was terrified. When she realized you’d changed the locks, she felt trapped.”

“She’s trapped in a mansion. Poor girl.”

“With locked doors and guards watching every window. Even a mansion can feel like a cell when you can’t escape. The walls started closing in on her and she was hyperventilating. I mean, she crumbled right in front of me. She collapsed and I thought I was going to have to call the doctor. Thankfully, she passed out and started breathing normally again.”

Guilt burns through me hot and fast, but I shove it down. “I did what I had to do to keep her and Dante safe. Just like I always will.”

Anatoly nods. “I know. Deep down, I think she does, too.”

Very, very deep down, maybe.

“But she needs time,” he says again. “Give it another day and I’ll talk to her. I’ll see if I can?—”

“I don’t need you to talk to my wife, brother.”

Anatoly looks down at the floor. “I didn’t mean?—”

“She’s coming to dinner tonight whether she likes it or not.” I walk back down the stairs, brushing past Anatoly on my way. “Since you two are so close, I’ll let you make sure she shows up.”

He sighs behind me, but wisely doesn’t respond.

Fifteen minutes later, he walks into the dining room with Viviana trailing behind him.

I don’t have time to be pissed that she listened to Anatoly and came downstairs, because it’s the first time I’ve seen her face in days—and she looks worse than I imagined.

Her skin is pale and her lips are cracked and dry. Her eyes are red-rimmed. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she really was sick.

“Mama!” Dante jumps out of his chair and hurls himself at Viviana’s legs. The force of it sends her stumbling back half a step. “Are you all better?”

Viviana’s eyes flick to mine for just a second before she quickly looks away and hugs Dante to her. “I’m better, baby.” Her voice says the exact opposite. It’s a husk of itself, hoarse and ragged and broken.

He drags her to the table by her hand. “Sit with me, Mama.”

Anatoly moves to the other side of the table to make room for Viviana and Stella brings out a plate for her. Dante wedges himself between me and his mom with a bright smile. He’s the only person in the room who can manage one tonight.

“Did you know ‘hat’ and ‘cat’ are rhyming words?” Dante asks the table. “Also, ‘gat’ and ‘dat.’”

“Those last two aren’t words,” Anatoly points out.

Dante hits him with narrowed eyes. “But they rhyme.”

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